Kiss, Just as Before
by liebedance
Summary: It was supposed to be a one-night-stand, no-strings attached. But there's something about James that Lily can't help but connect with. ::Mature::


[A/N: This work is mature. It is also a non-magical AU. Co-authored with museme87 for a fest on LiveJournal

I do not own Harry potter]

* * *

Lily met James hours ago over a shared cigarette in the back alley of an overcrowded club. That doesn't matter though. Because Lily, for all that it doesn't make sense, feels something for this messy-haired, overly confident young man. Maybe it's simply because she's just been dumped by her long-term boyfriend, maybe it's because she wants to be wanted, or perhaps this has something to do with James himself. Whatever it is, Lily doesn't care—not when James makes her feel as if she's never been kissed before, as if every touch is her first.

It's with a desperate fumbling that Lily opens the door to her flat, not wanting to sacrifice the feel of James' skin at her fingertips for anything. James is not helping matters any, his lips eager to remain locked with Lily's, his fingers tangled in her long, red hair. Eventually, they manage to get the door closed, and Lily finds enough self-control to pull away from James long enough to make sure her roommate isn't around the flat tonight.

"Looks like it's just the two of us," she declares breathlessly, noticing the keys missing from their usual spot by the door.

James smiles against her mouth. "Brilliant. Also, why in the bloody hell is it so cold in here?"

"Heater broke… should be fixed tomorrow." She kisses him frantically. "Did I forget to mention that?"

"You did."

"We don't have to do this if you—"

"No," he says, hushing her with a kiss of his own. "This, we have to do. I'll go mad otherwise."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Lily replies with a smirk, relieved that James hasn't rejected her.

If she's honest, Lily has had enough rejection these past few weeks to last a lifetime. One more might have pushed her over the edge. And this is liberating, this thing with James. Lily has never been a one-night stand kind of girl. But maybe tonight, with James, things will be different. It certainly can't be any worse than what she's experienced lately, and who can blame a girl for wanting to recreate herself?

James makes quick work of her scarf, the chilly air of the unheated flat like a shock to her bare skin. But he replaces the fabric with a peppering of kisses, warmth blooming in their wake. Lily breathes in sharply as he reaches the area right below her jaw and nips lightly. Her ex-boyfriend had never bit her before, and Lily is mildly surprised at the fluttering in her belly, at her desire to be claimed by this stranger.

She whimpers as James, pushing aside the lapels of her coat, places his hand on her breast, unabashed. Lily is quick to shrug out of the coat, letting it fall to a heap on the floor. His arm replaces the coat on the small of her back, and he pulls her closer. Winding one arm around James' neck, she leans into his touch, urging him to continue. Despite their being flush against one another, it still isn't enough, and Lily silently wonders if anything will be. But Lily doesn't want to wonder, she just wants to feel, to let herself go completely. And so, she brings his head down and presses her lips hard against him.

Lily's kiss seems to encourage James. His hand massages her through her thin shirt, and Lily finds her knees growing weak. Her nipples, covered only by that flimsy cloth, harden under his attention, and James moans appreciatively at the discovery that she's not wearing a bra.

Thumb strokes, fingers pinch, and a pleasant, distracting tingling lights between her legs. Her head swims, awash in sensation. Taking James' lower lip between her teeth, she sucks before James' tongue is flicking out to part her lips, and she opens for him eagerly.

Tongues meet and dance—just as _they _met and danced only hours before. The chemistry is the same—oh-so-familiar and burning. Why does it feel like she's done this before when they've only just met? Why is kissing James as easy and natural as breathing and more right than anything she'd done with anyone in the past?

This snogging isn't enough. She wants—_needs_—more, needs to feel James skin against hers. It's a struggle, but she manages to separate herself from James long enough to get her hands on the zip of his jacket, pulling it down and pushing it off of him. There is a fumble to undo all of the buttons of his button-down. Halfway through Lily, frustrated, pulls the offending shirt over his head and tosses is across the room, hoping to never see the stupid thing again. And then, she tenses.

She may never see James again, a thought that leaves her surprisingly empty. What could possibly be so special—so _magical_—about him to make her feel this way? Why does she feel so... connected to him? She hadn't expected this—hadn't _wanted_ this—when she'd propositioned him back at the club. All she'd wanted was a bloody shag.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks, stroking her cheek with his free thumb.

Lily thinks about saying, _no_, that this is all a bit strange, like déjà vu or something. But if they do have a connection, who is she to fight it?

Foregoing words, Lily reaches for his belt and leads him towards the couch. Upon arrival, she makes surprisingly quick work divesting him of it, along with the button and zip of his denims. James, in turn, is pulling her shirt over her head, and Lily sucks in a breath as the cold air hits her—her flesh covered in goosebumps, her nipples painfully hard.

James falls back on the couch and pushes aside a pile of books as she slips out of her own denims. Standing shivering before him, clad only in a pair of tiny, blue knickers, Lily curses herself for bringing him back to her unheated flat in the dead of winter.

But James is pulling her to him—on top of him—enveloping her in warm arms that provide comfort in the abysmal temperature, and she flushes upon feeling James hard through his denims. The tingling between her legs becomes a sudden throb.

James gathers her long hair, moving it over her shoulder to kiss her bare neck. Lily hums appreciatively and shifts slightly, drawing a strangled breath from James. Even through his denims, she can feel his cock twitch at the friction created by her motion. Lily, feeling his hand on her thigh, spreads her legs for him. And James, taking the hint, brings his hand between them.

"Christ, Lily," he moans, kissing her shoulder. "So wet."

And she is. How could she not be under James' touch? As his fingers move under the lacy edges of her panties, Lily gives a desperate whimper. There's a rush of heat on her skin, between her legs, and the cold air becomes more of a blessing than a curse.

Fingers dip and stroke, move her steadily towards a crescendo of sensation. She folds herself against him to keep from falling backwards in her weakness, her legs spreading wider and wider to encourage James further and further. He slips a finger inside of her, and she raises her hips to meet him. Lily moans as James' finger moves within her, hitting a particularly sensitive spot and sending a wave of pleasure through her. She finds herself desiring more, and, as if reading her mind, James slips in a second finger. Their rhythm comes easily, Lily moving against his touch.

"James," she half-moans, as she stops moving and turns to face him. "I need you. Inside me."

James' eyes widen behind his glasses, and he opens his mouth as though to speak. But Lily cuts him off.

"Now."

She gives him no time to brook argument, shifting on his lap so that she's straddling his legs. James, obligingly, lifts up just enough to slide his denims down to his knees; Lily doesn't allow him much space or time to discard them entirely. She quickly takes off her knickers, tossing them to the floor, before taking James into hand.

He's heavy and warm in her palm, flesh silky smooth. James' head lolls back from her touch, eyes pressed firmly shut and breathing suddenly uneven. Slowly—and when the hell did she become forward enough to ride a bloke anyway?—she sinks down on him. James spreads her, fills her, and she is seized by the thought of how much she's missed this. Not just sex—though that _has _been missed—but sex with _James_.

And as soon as she thinks this, the oddity of the sentiment strikes her. The sex is perfect, or so she would think if she were the sentimental type and believed in fate. But Lily does not. After a brief pause, she draws herself up again, and James brings his hands to her hips to guide her swiftly downwards.

Once they set a steady rhythm, James is quick to bring his hands to her gently bouncing breasts. First, he teases her nipples with his fingers, then with his tongue, and Lily isn't sure how much more she can take of so much sensation.

She meets his thrusts with a twist-grind that seems to send James into ecstasy, his eyes—blown wide with want—shut, her name falling from his lips. His thrusting quickens, the rhythm shifting to an erratic pace.

"So close, Lily," he whispers, voice scratchy and deep.

Lily will never know if that's what undoes her for certain, but the fluttering in her lower belly bursts in a rush of pleasure, and she cries out James' name. She rides it out, thinking only of the sensations pooling inside of her—seeing nothing but James' hazel eyes, hearing nothing but the moan that she draws from his throat with two more thrusts.

She feels him twitch inside of her, feels him coming. Her breathing slowing, she lays her hands on his chest, and he leans his head against her shoulder**.** Lily doesn't want to move from this position, doesn't want to feel the emptiness that will come when they break from one another.

But the chill begins to creep onto her sweat-glistened flesh, forcing them to part. Silently, she shifts next to James, and he reaches for the blanket bunched up at the end of the couch, covering her to keep the cold off.

Resting her head against his shoulder, Lily remembers that this was supposed to just be a one-time thing, a no-strings-attached shag. She never saw herself wanting it to be anything but when she walked into the club tonight. But that was before-James—as if her life starts a new period tonight: after-James.

"You're brilliant," James whispers into her ear, as he puts his arm around her and pulls her against him. "This felt so... I just... we've never slept together before, have we?"

"We haven't," Lily responds, trying to suppress the emotion stirring within her. He'd felt it too, the strange déjà vu. And if she hadn't already been having mixed feelings about never seeing James again, she is now.

"No... I didn't think so. I wouldn't have forgotten a girl like you."

Lily smiles softly, so comfortable nestled in his arms. "But it feels familiar."

"Like it happened a lifetime ago," James adds, nodding.

"A lifetime ago..." Lily echoes.

She doesn't believe in fate, and yet she wants to for James. What if they are meant for one another, and she rejects him simply because they've not known each other long enough? What if she dismisses him, ruining her chance at something real, something better than last time? She twists in her arms so that she's looking into his eyes—eyes burning with the same passion she is feeling. Maybe, she thinks as she leans in for one more kiss, it's time to stop questioning.

* * *

Thoughts?


End file.
